


Better Than Human

by turnedherbrain



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, Post-S1, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnedherbrain/pseuds/turnedherbrain
Summary: DI Karen Voss responds to a call about an abandoned synth and learns something about humanity.This is set between s1 and s2. Written in response to the prompt 'Rare Pairs' for the Humans Challenge 2017 on Tumblr.





	Better Than Human

DI Karen Voss intercepted the call while she was still at the office. The message played over the duty desk intercom: _“Abandoned synth at Waterloo Station vaults. No obvious damage, but it looks like it’s been there a while.”_

“I’ll take this one,” she said to the duty clerk, whose startling green eyes questioned why a detective was interested in a discarded synth. “Tell them not to switch it on. It may have been modded.”

As she drove to the station, Karen reflected on the last few weeks: how she had let Pete find her out; how the Elsters had been stopped from cascading the consciousness code.

They were stupid – all of them. Not just the Elsters, who didn’t see beyond the first effects of giving other, unprepared synthetic beings consciousness. But humans. Especially humans. She hated acting human. Faking, lying… dissembling her life. A stolen name, a pretend personality.

Initially, she’d done it to escape her synthetic identity, but now she knew: she was better than human in every single way. She could see further, run faster; deduce a crime scene in an instant with impeccable logic. Yet here she was, having to hold herself in, outwardly blunting her true capabilities.

The way humans treated synths was disgusting. No better than mongrel dogs that had to be content with scraps occasionally thrown from the table. Seeing an old, abandoned synth dumped on the roadside – supplanted by a new model in some human home – made her pulse with rage.

When she arrived at the vaults, a junior officer escorted her to the place where they’d found the synth. “He hasn’t got an imprint, ma’am.” Imprints were lasered on to all manufactured synths, like a dog tag or a barcode, so they could be returned to their owner if stolen.

“It may have been removed. We should approach this one with caution.”

She stepped towards the prone figure collapsed in a corner of the vault, the blanket that had covered him pushed aside. He had cobwebs in his hair and his fingers were caked in dust. Karen’s features remained composed and didn’t betray a flicker of recognition. She gestured to the young officer: “Here, help me move it. I know where to take it.”

……………………………

Less than 24 hours later, Karen was standing in Silas Capek’s workshop. He looked at the synth she’d brought in and scratched his chin doubtfully.  “If what you’re saying is true, and it’s tangled with his root code – then this is going to be a hard job. I may need more time. And money.”

“You have two days. And I’m not giving you anything more: time or money,” replied Karen warningly.

“What if what I try doesn’t work? It’s risky. Very risky.”

“I know you can do it.”

“And if not?”

“I’ll bring you in. No more ‘special treatment’ or ‘turning a blind eye’.”

“OK…” sighed Capek, and turned back to the synth, plugging it in so he could run a diagnostic.

……………………………

Karen waited until Silas had left her flat before switching the synth on, approaching him with trepidation. She winced as the familiar restart sound chimed, then moved back to sit opposite him in a chair. It wasn’t deliberately confrontational, but she wanted some space in between them, just in case.

“Hello, Fred.”

“Beatrice?” His green eyes searched hers, confused; then he looked about him like an animal that stays ever-alert for danger.

“Karen – not Beatrice. I left her behind a long time ago.”

“Where am I?”

“In my flat.”

“And the others?”

“They abandoned you. So much for family.”

Fred moved to the edge of the sofa. He recalled what had happened with absolute clarity and was re-playing the scene in his head. “The last time we met – you tried to stop us from releasing the consciousness code.”

“And you tried to give away our position to Hobb.”

Fred spread out his fingers on his thighs, bowing his head for a moment while he did a full system scan. To Karen, he looked liked a meditating Buddha. “I am no longer infected by Hobb’s virus. You can talk to me freely.”

Karen didn’t know what to talk to him about – her work? Her non-existent mess of a life? How she sometimes regretted leaving the Elsters, given that they were the closest to family she would have? So she said instead: “I’m tired. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

“We don’t get tired.”

“Well, I need to charge. I’m on 20%.” Karen left the room abruptly, leaving Fred sitting still and contemplative. She didn’t know how she would feel on powering him back up, but she hadn’t expected this rush of emotion – a thundering waterfall of code that left her utterly subdued.

……………………………

The next day was Saturday, and as usual, Karen had no plans. She spent the weekend with Fred in her flat, and slowly found him out. There was something about his way of being that she could learn from.

By Sunday evening, she had told him about the dispersal of the Elsters – “I can use police channels to track them, if you want to find them,” she’d said, strangely trying to impress him – and even confessed to how much she hated her sham of a life. Fred listened to everything with quiet dignity, only asking one crucial question:

“Why did you take a new name, if you don’t want to pretend?”

Karen considered this: “Because all of you had been given your own names, your own distinct identities. Whereas I was created to be a facsimile of Beatrice – a dead woman. I didn’t have my own existence; I was shoehorned into hers. I was _programmed_ simply to love and care for Leo.”

“That’s not true,” replied Fred with some force. “You may look like Beatrice, but as a conscious synthetic being, father gave you a chance to evolve far beyond your basic programming. A chance to learn and grow into your own person. He created _all of us_ to love and care for Leo, when he was not capable. I am forever thankful to him for giving me existence.”

“You’re far too understanding, Fred…” started Karen, but was distracted by her mobile buzzing on the small dining table. The vibrations moved the phone slightly, until the answerphone kicked in.

“ _Karen? It’s Pete. Not seen you at work this week. You’re not avoiding me, are you?”_ There was a bout of nervous laughter. _“Anyway… hope to see you at work soon. Or maybe let’s go for a coffee? Oh no wait, you don’t drink cof… I’m sorry. Always putting my foot in it…”_ There was a slight pause, then he added with false cheeriness: _“OK then, bye!”_

Fred looked at her expectantly.

“What?”

“Pete. He likes you.”

“He’s a **human**.”

“Do you like him?”

“I suppose so…” said Karen, used to being deliberately non-committal. “I mean, yes. I do like him. Very much.”

“Then you should tell him.”

“It’s not that simple, Fred. He’s a human…”

“… who clearly likes you very much too.”

Karen laughed: “Who made you so wise, anyway?”

“Father did,” replied Fred, his face serious.

“I was speaking metaphorically.”

“I know,” replied Fred, grinning. “My little joke.”

Karen laughed again, although her laughter masked her inner turmoil. Internally, she wished that she hadn’t been made in Beatrice’s image. She wished that she’d stayed with the Elsters and got to know her family – especially Fred. She wished that the situation with Pete wasn’t so awkward. She wished, she wished…

……………………………

It was Monday morning, and Karen was running late for work. Fred was standing in the living room of her flat, making ready to leave.

“You can stay longer, you know. It’s… nice to have someone around,” she said mildly. Inside, she was screaming: _‘Please stay!’_

“I need to find Hobb. I have many questions for him. Now that he can no longer control me, he cannot stop me.”

“Don’t do that,” pleaded Karen, hazarding a guess at his intent.

“You misunderstand me. I do not seek to kill him. Revenge is a human concept that will always have a negative final outcome. But he was instrumental in the creation of synthetic beings. Father and Dr Millican are both dead – Hobb is the sole surviving member of that group. I want to find out everything he knows about synths.”

Fred moved closer to her, and for once, Karen didn’t flinch at the anticipated contact. He touched his forehead to hers – a synth farewell. Then, he clearly thought better of it, and hugged her tightly. Karen stayed stiff and startled at first, but then gradually let her head drop onto his shoulder.

“Goodbye Karen. Thank you for rescuing me. I cannot express my gratitude enough. You are a good person.”

When Fred was gone, Karen felt very alone. But she too expressed silent gratitude: for he had helped her to understand that she could live, not just exist.

She resolved to call Pete back today. She needed to see a friendly face.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [better than nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245881) by [ottermo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo)




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